


Desert Walk

by TheFriendlyStranger



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Eventual Smut, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Odd relationship, POV Second Person, Post-Movie, Survival, fury road - Freeform, idk - Freeform, travelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFriendlyStranger/pseuds/TheFriendlyStranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-movie AU. </p>
<p>Max makes a journey back to the Citadel, dragging a should-be corpse with him. Yet, it's soon apparent that he's not completely there, neither of them are anymore. At least, that's what Max tells himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, can you tell I haven't written a legit fanfic in a long while? I'm going to chop up the fact that this is a lot shorter than I intended it to be on that. Also, not too sure why I wrote it in second person. I was playing around at first and it just flowed, so...

It felt like being back at the beginning.

Out in the desert, the heat slowly baking you as you walked. Of course, your hair wasn't as long anymore, and you were without your Interceptor. There's always the urge to go back and get your car, yet you can never really seem to find your way back. It wasn't really in your will to do so, either, for a reason you had yet to discover. At least, for a while now, the voices were quiet. The one good thing.

It still felt very much like you are repeating yourself, yet it was very different now. The memory of Furiosa back at the Citadel played out in your head every now and then, watching her rise up with the body of the Immortan, and it filled you with...something. Strength. It kept you moving, pushing through the desert and onward. At least, that was as close you could get to describing it. That was never your battle to begin with.

You came to a stop when the area around you seemed to become familiar. Maybe it was the rocks, when exhaustion settles in it's suddenly much too easy to start thinking that everything looks the same. It was sand, either way, and you're determined to keep moving. Then, it dawned on you that maybe it isn't exhaustion, it's the exact same rocks that you've seen before. Bits of metal kick up under your feet, growing in numbers the closer you wander into the cliffs. Once again, you came to a complete stop, letting out an almost drawn out sigh through your nose as your shoulders slumped in what could only be described as defeat.

There it was.

The war rig.

...Or what was left of it.

You're not sure how you got there, direction seemed to blur after a while, but you were pretty sure that the ruins of the vehicle was not a hallucination. The rocks had crushed it almost completely, and there was a part of you that wondered if he was still in there. With how long it had been, you almost didn't want to know what state he was in. Yet, with legs disagreeing, you found yourself letting out another sigh as you attempted to make your way down.

Momentarily, you wondered if the others had buried him already.

Maybe it was you who had to do it physically. If there was anything left.

* * *

Climbing down the rocks took a while, you could feel your strength dropping from days of walking, before you approached the rig. It looked...dead. Like a carcass, metal bent and rusted, hollowed out and left to rot in the desert. It appeared that you weren't the only one who had went down to check, you could see bits of metal removed, blown off or taken, you weren't sure. You could feel the heat from the metal against the exposed skin of your face as you approached, pausing before you bent down to look in through the busted window.

You weren't sure what you were expecting. To see two half decaying corpses sitting there? To see only half of that?

It was completely empty. Even the steering wheel was gone, and so were the bodies.

Nothing to bury, it had been a waste of time. As you rose up again, taking a glance towards the sky, you couldn't help but feel the prickle of frustration crop up, it made you clench your hands at your sides. There was nothing to bury, and you were wasting daylight digging around looking for ghosts. You could almost hear them approaching, almost heard their foot falls in the sand, waiting.

_Max..._

_Save us._

You almost didn't want to turn around, knowing your they would be there to greet you with their haunting and terrifying faces. Yet, as you did turn around, you weren't expecting the sudden rush. Something solid collided with your torso, sending you falling back into the sand, arms cartwheeling almost comically as you were knocked off your feet from the force of it. The feeling of the ground hitting your back was harsh, the added weight of your attacker knocking the wind out of you for a few moments. Instinct kicked in almost immediately. Fight, it was always fight. As your attacker rose up, his fist wound to strike, you lashed out with your hand, fist colliding with the throat of the person above you.

They let out a choked sound, leaving them reeling a little bit. It was enough. Quickly, you backed off, legs kicking out under you in your attempt to get away. Quickly, you stood to your feet before you charged, knocking them off their feet while they were still slightly dazed. Once you had your roles reversed, your fist came down against their face, hitting once, twice, to make sure they stayed down. You couldn't see their face, a pair of blue eyes staring up at you through dirty cloth with growing surprise. As the adrenaline stepped off slightly, feeling the throbbing in your fist, it allowed you to stand up fully once again, a tilt to your head as you took in their expression. At least, from what you could see.

Suddenly, they jumped up. Instantly, you jumped back, ready to hit them again if they wanted to attack, yet they just laughed. It wasn't cruel, no. It was breathless, almost manic.

“B...Blood Bag!” they exclaimed, moving to approach you once again. You stepped back, head tilted and brow furrowed.

As if just realizing, they quickly grabbed at the front of their mask, a dirty cloth that looked like it had seen better days, and ripped it off. The face behind it was hard to recognize at first, a white clay like substance chipped away and peeling in some places, scabs and boils covering bits of the other's face. Though, you managed to take in the open mouthed smile, the scarred and cracked lips, the two small lumps peeking out from under his jacket as he bent over slightly.

Two drawn on and smiling faces stared out at you as he let out another breathless laugh. There was a reply building up in you, yet it only just left you with a quizzical expression and your mouth slightly agape.

He just laughed again, looking at you like you were the best thing that's ever happened to him.

“ _Blood Bag!_ ”


	2. Two

The war boy was a hallucination, that's what he was.

 You were baking out in the sun, days without little food or water, and now your brain was messing with you. Somehow you had came across the war rig once again, and your memories and mental state were trying to pull you deeper into...this. Yet, you couldn't seem to stick with that idea as you felt the other's hands grip at the fabric of your jacket, pulling on it a few times with a grin on his face. He looked like he was smiling at the familiarity, as if he was testing if you were real as well.

“You're dead.”

The worlds finally worked their way out, your voice rough and almost unfamiliar.

It took a few moments for the words to sink into the war boy's head, his eyes moving from your jacket to your face, the smile on his face falling slightly. You watched as his brow furrowed as he stepped back slightly, shaking his head.

“No, I'm not,” he said, patting his own chest, “My piston's still pumpin'.”

“I saw you,” you said, shaking your head, “the rocks...you were crushed.”

The expression on his face seemed to falter, the war boy glancing behind himself at the rig once again. He didn't really say anything for a few moments, the lapse in conversation was familiar to you, but the slowly growing silence was uncomfortable. Talking was unfamiliar to you, the words cumbersome and almost felt unnecessary. Pointing and grunting was easier, but sometimes you just needed to say something. At that moment, you wondered if it was just better if you had just hadn't said anything.

Yet, acting as if he hadn't really heard you or like the words hadn't sink in, the boy turned back around. There was a small bit of excitement in his eyes, nodding his head.

“I was so chrome, wasn't I? So shiny,” he said, walking past you a little bit, looking up towards the canyon's above the both of you.

“I knew someone would come, I knew it,” he continued, “I have something to show you. Come!”

He took off, walking at the quick pace towards another part of the canyon. It appeared he really wasn't giving you a choice. You lingered behind a few moments, your brow furrowing a little bit as his behaviour before you followed behind him. If he really was alive and not something that your mind was throwing at you, this would be the time to figure that out.

 

* * *

 

Climbing back up the rocks that you had just climbed down was frustrating, following the war boy up into more the canyon. You wondered if he had ran into trouble with the other people in the canyon, remembering the motorbikes and the explosives, though so far you hadn't really ran into anything. Maybe you were lucky, hadn't wandered into the territory.

A part of you was expecting to be lead up towards a cliff where your daughter and the number of other hallucinations would meet you, some sort of trick to lead you somewhere, to torment you, but you kept reminding yourself that you had _felt_ him grab your jacket.

“Here it is,” he said, out of breath, as the both of you managed to get up onto another ledge. It was as hot as it was down by the rig, and you couldn't help but wonder why he would pick this place. Did he live here? It almost appeared so, bits of metal and scraps laid about on some rocks and in the sand. Though, he continued to lead you towards a small opening in the rocks. It was closed off and dark, small, too, seeing as you could barely fit in there yourself. Though, it appeared that he managed to keep some stuff in there, and he looked to be sleeping in there.

You backed off, stepping back out into the light, looking out around you. If this was what he wanted to show you, then you probably could have gone without seeing it. He wasn't...if he was alive, why didn't he go back? Though, you really didn't have much time to dwell on that thought since he had came back out of his shelter, holding a wheel in his hands. He nodded his head as he approached you, holding it out towards you.

“There,” he said, “I had to kill some scavengers to get it, I wouldn't let them take this.”

You could see that, considering there was some blood on the wheel, though you didn't take it from him. He shoved it at you a little harder, hitting your chest with it slightly.

“You need to take it. Give it back.”

You shook your head with a small disagreeing grunt, shoving it back at him. “It's yours.”

“No, it's not. My wheel's gone, and I think this wheel should go back. Take it.”

“No.”

“ _Blood Bag_ ,” he almost growled, shoving the wheel harder into your chest, stepping close in a challenge. You let out a small growl in return, grabbing the wheel and shoving it back at him with just enough force to make him stumble a little.

“ _War boy,_ ” you replied, eyes narrowed, “take it back yourself.”

“I can't,” he said, still sounding like he was challenging you, though he did continue to hold the wheel, “I'm dead.”

_Should have saved him._

_Should have saved us, Max._

_Dadd-_

“You're not,” you snapped, cutting off the voices, tempted to shake your head them, “Take it back yourself.”

“I'm half-life, I can barely find blood,” he explained, “The ones that I did take from fought back, had to kill them. If I did try to take it back myself, I wouldn't make the walk.”

“Hm.”

“You have to take it back,” he repeated, still firm but a little less demanding this time. You stared at him this time, a frown on your face. You were tempted to just say no and walk away, if he wanted to attack you over a wheel, then that was something you could handle. Going back wasn't something that you did, you roamed and wandered. That was what you did. Though, with the war boy still alive, as far as you were convinced, the former wives would most likely rip you apart for leaving him behind and just taking his wheel.

He'd be worth more to them than the wheel he carried.

“I'll give you blood,” you said, “you can come with me. Take the wheel back.”

“I can't-”

“You're alive, you'll die out here. Go back, you have a home.”

For a few moments, he almost looked like he just might disagree with you. Yet, he didn't attempt to voice that or shove the wheel at you again. You decided to take that as agreement, walking back towards the small cave that he had been staying in.

“Rest tonight,” you said, glancing back at him, “I'll give you blood in the morning before we leave.”

 


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness, this week's been hectic and I wanted to get something out. Plus, I wanted to end it before we got into the action-y bits. Thanks for the comments and support so far, it's gotten a lot more than I expected it to. 
> 
> Also, there's some lizard munching in this. Nothing too descriptive, but it's there.

You really were living up to his nickname for you.

The thought alone was enough to make you want to rip your arm away, to just take his damn wheel and give it to Furiosa back in the Citadel. The whole night, cramped into that small space between the rocks with him was enough to make you want to leave, and then having to dig around in the early hours of the morning for a tube and usable needles was enough to leave you feeling a little testy. Not that you usually weren't, being alone for such a long time was hard, but it was a difficulty that you were used to.

Yet, here you were, bleeding yourself into the war boy as the sun slowly started to heat up the area around you, the two of you tired and leaning against some uncomfortable rocks. Leaving him here, defending the rig that you doubted people were coming back for and at the mercy of his own illness, not to mention whoever may come across him, left a heavy feeling in your chest. As irritated as you felt, you couldn't deny that you had bonded with him.

You could at least do this one last thing for him. For the Citadel and what was growing there.

“The Immortan...” the war boy started, sounding as if he was trying to remember something, “he's...”

“Dead,” you finished, nodding your head in confirmation. He had been there when it happened, yet you knew how devoted the war boys were to him. The image of the people of the Citadel ripping his body apart, limb by limb, piece of clothing by clothing, something to claim as their own, was still something that remained in your cluttered head.

It almost seemed to contradict.

“What's it like there now?”

You honestly didn't really know. It hadn't been all that long since you had left the place, and things had seemed right. You trusted Furiosa and the wives, their leadership and their compassion, strength. The war boy had to return there, to see it himself.

“Better.”

Maybe you would see it yourself as well. Just a glimpse.

“They...think I'm dead,” the war boy started up, turning his wrist over, exposing the tube connecting the both of you, “You thought I was dead. Nobody was coming to get me.”

He wasn't wrong. You had actually never planned on going back to the rig, and once you had found yourself there...well, you couldn't tell him that you planned on burying him. You just let out a small sigh, you needed to say something, anything. You were supposed to comfort him, maybe tell him that wasn't true and that people were just waiting for him to return back home, but the war boy wasn't stupid.

You needed him motivated. If you had to drag him across the desert back towards the Citadel, you would probably need him there, the extra alertness, if you needed to keep giving him blood. Without vehicles, without the adrenaline that had pumped in you, and in turn him, it would be a challenge. Yet, you also knew that he was strong.

“They'll...be happy to see you. That you're alive.”

He turned to look at you then, your gaze meeting his own and you knew that you had got through to him. For the time being, at least. His change in demeanour over the past couple hours, ever since you refused to just take his wheel, wasn't lost on you. Curled up in his small space during the night, drifting in and out of sleep, laying close enough to feel him shake and see the sweat that dotted his brow, you knew that you had been lucky to find him when you did.

He'd die out there, and maybe he had gotten that into his head, but that wasn't happening. As much as you didn't believe in it, the boy had been at the gates of Valhalla so many times that they had to have been spitting him back out for a reason.

...Damn it, you needed to wrap this up. Still, a half-life was still a life.

It would be a long trek. You just hoped that it would be worth it.

 

* * *

 

The taste was familiar, bitter and salty. Blood. Lots of it, on your tongue as you chewed on what remained of the lizard that you had saw crawl across the rocks. It was unpleasant, but familiar. You figured out a way to eat them and that was all that mattered. Might have helped you along, eating them. Sharing had crossed your mind, but with the way the war boy seemed to be up and alert, your blood pumping in his veins, eating the animal yourself didn't seem to bother you too much.

You needed strength, too. Especially if you had to give more blood down the road, along with the walking.

Still, chasing after the lizard and feeling it crunch under your boot had just reminded you. Feral. Some animal scurrying around in the dirt, ripping into lizards with his teeth. Though, you knew that to do so was surviving, and from the look on the war boy's face when you turned around with the lizard in your mouth, well, you weren't getting any judgement from him.

“Bikes!” he exclaimed, seeming to pull you out of your train of thought, “We can get bikes.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, silently prompting him to continue. There were some people who rode around on bikes in the canyon, though you had gathered that it would be best to try and avoid them. The both of you were without a vehicle, and were most likely outnumbered, even with your weapons on hand.

The war boy quickly walked back towards some of the rocks behind the both of you, digging around for something. You watched with curiosity, arms crossed. While getting something for the both of you to drive was a very good idea, you couldn't help but feel some sort of tense energy thrum through you. Without your gaze leaving him, the war boy returned with an arm full of clothing, dumping them onto the dirt by your feet, glancing at you with eyebrows raised.

Almost looked like he was seeking your approval. For _what_ , though?

“The helmet's a little ripe,” he said, pointing towards the bulky thing, dark horns sticking out of it, “Think most of the blood's out of it, though. You could wear it, pull me along with you. We could get into their camp, get close to the bikes.”

“Doesn't sound thought out,” you said after a few beats, poking at the clothing with the toe of your boot.

“Don't see much else, Blood Bag,” he said, glancing out at the canyon once again.

He had a point, the other option that you saw was walking, and the more ground you could cover in less time, the better. You weren't against taking risks, and commandeering vehicles wasn't anything new to you, but with the state the both of you were in...

The war boy was strong, and so were you.

With a small sigh, you bent down and picked up the heavy jacket, slinging it over your shoulder as you picked up the helmet with one hand. You held it closer to your face, sniffing at it gently. There was a faint foulness to it, but you could suffer it.

“Let's go,” you said, nodding your head towards the path leading down into the canyon.

If he was so certain, you figured that it was the better option than walking. With the clothes, at least you weren't going in, guns out.

Still, it didn't stop you from being prepared. You knew these wastes.

 


End file.
